The long, hard road
by SportsWriterMAB
Summary: Johnny Blaze's world has just turned upside down and it will never be the same.
1. Chapter 1

The interior of the small, cluttered trailer was cloaked in inky, black darkness. Periodically there would be flashes of light that would find their way between the blinds, throwing small slats of light over the contents inside. The most recent flash illuminates the shadowy form of a man, sitting alone on a couch, his head resting against the back, looking up at the ceiling. In front of him on an old coffee table sits large bottle of liquor. Beside it was a cup with three ice cubes in it and the remainder of a drink. Outside of the shabby walls, the tiny voice of a far away loudspeaker crackled to life.

"Ladiesssss and gentlemennnnnn! Are you ready for the greatest motorcycle show in the countryyyyyyy?"

A roar went up from the crowd that shook the metal walls of the trailer. The man slowly sat up straight and swept his long, dirty hair back over his face. He reached for the glass as he stood up and walked over to a small desk in the corner. He opened the bottom right drawer and withdrew a well-worn piece of paper. He looked it over for a minute or two before draining the last bit of liquor from the glass. He set the paper on the desk and set the glass on top of it. There was already a ring from where it had sat many times before. He slowly turned and headed for the door of the trailer picking up a black and red motorcycle helmet on his way.

"In mere minutes you will be treated to the most exciting stunt rider the world has ever known," the loudspeaker continued. "The stunts you are about to see are not to be attempted at any time. The following rider is a trained professional with many years of stunt riding experience. Are you ready? I said, Arrrrrrrrrrrrreeeee yooooooooooooou reeeaadddddddyyyyyyyy? Then ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls and children of all ages, I give to you the world's most fearless daredevil, the man, the myth, the legend... Johhhhhhnnnnnny Blazzzzzzzzzzzzzze!"

Blaze whipped open the door to his trailer and started towards the motor pool of the show. As he marched through the mud that was left over from last night's rain he passed his chief mechanic, Ted Sawyer. "How's she look Ted?" he asked.

"Just got finished giving it a personal checkup. Everything is in tip-top shape, just like always."

"Excellent, just what I wanted to hear. I have been worried about this one all day," Blaze said. "I don't know what I would do without you Ted."

The mechanic looked at the ground, keeping his eyes from meeting Blaze's. "You better hurry, John. Your ride is about to start." A roar went up from the crowd as Blaze's motorcycle was wheeled from the garage out into the center of the stadium.

"Damn! Thanks again man," Blaze shouted as he took off on a dead sprint while fastening his helmet. Sawyer didn't answer as he walked right past the trailers and headed for the back gate of the stadium. He looked around nervously as he undid the latch. Without looking he started out into the night, but ran face first into the chest of a giant of a man, impeccably dressed in a black suit, black shirt and black tie.

"So Mr. Sawyer, is it done?" the man growled in an almost inhuman voice.

Sweat was pouring off of the mechanics brow as he struggled for the words. "It's done damn you," Sawyer said handing a bolt to the man. "Now, you promised to leave my family alone!"

"Damn me? That's almost funny Mr. Sawyer," the man replied. "But you have done what was asked of you and our end of the bargain will be honored. Your family has been freed and will be awaiting you when you arrive home."

Sawyer pushed his way past the hulk of a man and ran away towards his car.

"So, all the pieces are in place," he snarled to himself. "Father will be pleased," as he vanished into a cloud of thick, acrid, black smoke.

Blaze reached his cycle just as the loudspeaker was announcing that Blaze would be attempting to set a world record by jumping 33 cars.

"You ready, John?" one of the bike's handler's asked as Blaze gave the bike a quick once-over. He normally would do a thorough inspection, but was held up by Ted on his way to the arena.

"Yeah, I think so. What about you guys?" he asked.

"This is all you, superstar," the handler said turning in a circle with his hands pointing to the crowd which was almost defining.

Blaze laughed to himself and strapped on his helmet as the crowd noise flared in anticipation of his jump. He turned the key in the ignition and fired up the engine on the cycle. He turned the throttle in his right hand twice, inciting the crowd even more. Ahead of him was a ramp, and just past that the first of 33 cars. He turned and glanced back at the two guys that brought the cycle out and they quickly gave a thumbs up. He flipped his visor down and thrust his fist in the air.

"There's the signal folks," the loudspeaker squawked. "Blaze is ready to attempt this dangerous stunt en route to a world record."

As soon as the last roar of the crowd died, Blaze peeled out and sped to the ramp. The digits on the speedometer climbed steadily, reflected in his visor. He was doing close to 110 mph when his front tire first reached the ramp and wobbled a little bit. Before he even had time to adjust, the bolts on the front wheel sheered off and the wheel came off and the bike went into the ramp nose first, cartwheeling Blaze and the bike several hundred feet through the air, both crashing down on the 13th car with a sickening crash.

"Ladies and gentlemen please stay in your seats!" the loudspeaker rang out as emergency personnel poured out of the garage towards the flaming mess that was now laying in the middle of the line of cars.

The first paramedic reached Blaze only to find his body twisted and broken. He immediately began to check for a pulse and vital signs. There were none. He was dead ... the best stunt cyclist in the world was dead on a botched attempt to jump a line of cars.

With one final explosion, Blaze's bike evaporated into flame and molten wreckage, effectively erasing the final signs of Ted Sawyer's betrayal. But as more paramedics arrived, they were not about to give up on Johnny Blaze's life just yet as they started to administer CPR.

Blaze awoke with a start, the foul smell of sulfur burning his nose. He was flat on his back, staring up at a dark ceiling on a cold, hard stone floor. He tried to pick himself up, but found that he was unable to move. He tried to look for what was binding him, but found nothing holding him down. He struggled harder, beads of sweat appeared on his brow.

"Your spine is shattered Mr. Blaze, any attempts at movement will probably damage it more," a sinister voice growled from in the shadows on his right.

Johnny didn't realize anyone else was in the room, and the sudden burst of dialog startled him. "Who the hell are you? Where the hell am I?" he quickly spat.

There came a low, guttural laugh from the shadows. Blaze could now see two specks of red in the darkness that glowed with an unearthly light. They looked exactly like eyes.

_The injury is just making me see things. I'm hallucinating,_ he told himself.

"The operative word in those two questions is hell, Mr. Blaze, which is exactly where you are," the voice said.

"I got to wake up," Blaze muttered to himself, trying to find his way out of this nightmare.

"Rest assured, Mr. Blaze, you are awake, your spine is broken and you are exactly where I said you were," the voice growled. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Gieall."

With those words a horrible-looking creature stepped into Blaze's field of vision. It was a tall, humanoid-looking creature. It looked like a man who had the flesh burnt off of his bones. Two leathery, scab-covered wings protruded from its back. And just as Blaze had seen before, his eyes glowed red.

"You were killed in a motorcycle accident at your most recent show," Gieall said with a chuckle. "Would you like me to show you?" With a wave of his talon-tipped hand, the demon conjured a swirling mist over Blaze's chest. In the mist Blaze saw himself on his bike, heading towards the ramp when the front wheel fell off sending the bike and Blaze into cartweels. Reality finally set in for Johnny Blaze. He had died and the demon was telling the truth. A tear creeped from his eye, "Clara..." he whispered.

"Ahh, your loving wife," the demon laughed, his rotting teeth chattering. "I wouldn't worry about her, you got more important things to worry about, my master wishes to meet you."

Blaze held on to his fighting spirit, even in these most dire circumstances. "Then tell him to get in here, as you can see I'm in no shape to move," Blaze growled, motioning to his lower body with his chin.

The demon just shook his head and snapped his decaying fingers together. Johnny Blaze felt a jolt of pain unlike any other he has ever felt before shot throughout the length of his body. He has broken almost every bone in his body during his stunt career, but he has never felt pain like this.

"There," the demon's grating voice announced. "All better."

Blaze couldn't believe it, as he started to rise to his feet. Once he got up, he realized the demon was in fact, very short, probably no more taller than a normal teenager.

As Gieall led the way to an open door, that wasn't there before, Blaze thought at once he could take the demon. After all he was a lot bigger and had the element of surprise on his side.

"Don't even think about it," Gieall said, apparently reading Blaze's thoughts. "This is my domain, something you know very little about. I could snap my fingers again and leave you laying on the floor with a snapped spine again."

Blaze decided better of his plan and followed the small demon out into what looked like an elaborate parlor, but instead of people demons lounged around at tables and on pillows talking in languages Blaze couldn't even fathom.

Gieall motioned his hand towards a set of very large ornate doors at the opposite side of the room. They were covered in pictures of humans being thrown into a fiery pit, with a large-mouthed demon waiting at the bottom. "The master awaits you," Gieall said. "You and he have much to discuss."

Blaze turned towards the small demon and gave an indigent chuckle. "Let's just see what your master has in store for me freak," he said as he sauntered across the room. He stopped just in front of the doors and put his hands up to push them up when he suddenly withdrew. "They're hot," he said as he shot a quizzical look back towards Gieall.

Looking down at his hands he put them against the doors again and pushed, vanishing inside without a sound.

Gieall smiled an evil grin, his black teeth shining in the light as he watched Blaze disappear through the door. But before he could move, a large, black hand closed around his neck.

"You've done well, whelp," a voice came from over his shoulder. "From guiding Blaze while he was here to keeping that poor mechanic's family under wraps until he did his job. I'd say you are almost worthy of a place by my father's side."

"I would serve him without question," Gieall grovelled. "Your gratitude is appreciated, Blackheart."

"That's the problem," Blackheart growled, his hand tightening on the demon's neck. "I don't need anymore rivals for my father's ear. You have just outlived your usefulness."

Gieall's eyes bulged and his talons scraped ineffectively against Blackheart's tough hide. Eventually the little demon went limp and Blackheart tossed aside the carcass, where several other dog-like demons suddenly appeared and devoured it.

Blaze found himself, surprisingly in a well-furnished office with a tall, thin bald man sitting behind an ivory desk in the middle of it.

The man did not look up as he waved towards a plush chair. "Sit down, Mr. Blaze."

Johnny did nothing, he just stared at the man, again thinking he was in some sort of dream, or elaborate practical joke. "So you're the 'master' huh?" Blaze said making quote marks in the air with his fingers. "Funny, you don't look like the master I had in mind."

"I SAID SIT!" the man bellowed, and a chair appeared behind Blaze and pain stabbed through his legs forcing him into the large-backed leather chair.

"Let me assure you, Mr. Blaze, I am the master of this domain," he said, his voice more calm and even. "My true image is much more, how should I put it, traumatizing, to new arrivals like yourself."

The man snapped his fingers and Blaze found himself chained to a small stone bench, flames leaping around him. In front of him on a throne of human skulls sat gigantic red creature. He had a long beak-like mouth, with a tousle of pitch-black hair on his head. His eyes glowed an eerie yellow and smoke curled from around him.

A moment later Blaze was back in the office, but this time the smarmy attitude was gone and a look of horror creeped over his face.

"I apologize for that," the man said as he stood. "But since you arrived, you have acted like you owned the place, but that is in fact my job. Do you understand?"

The normally talkative Blaze just shook his head in acknowledgment, the color completely missing from his face.

"Excellent. My name is Mephisto. It is a pleasure to meet you. Now, just so you know, most arrivals don't get an audience with me, you know, with all the burning for all eternity going on. But you are a special case," Mephisto said. "And I have brought you here before me, because I have an offer you will definitely want to hear."


	2. Chapter 2

Johnny Blaze sat in a elegantly furnished office, glancing at various works of art on the wall and what he took for a beaming ray of sunlight coming through a skylight in the roof. The man across from him had just finished a long-winded speech that he was having trouble comprehending. It was filled with references to the future, the past and everything in between. The last line of the offer struck Blaze the hardest.

"Face it Blaze, in two years your wife Clara will commit suicide over your death," Mephisto said. "I am giving you the chance to prevent that."

Blaze wasn't sure if he just heard right. It took him a few moments to process the information before finally speaking.

"Did the Devil just offer me a chance to return to Earth?" he stammered.

"Technically I am not your Devil," Mephisto answered with a wide smile. "Each level of hell is ruled by a certain demon. All are different. Your 'Devil' is a conglomeration of all of us, and a little bit of fairy tale mixed in. But yes, I did just offer you a chance of getting out of here."

Blaze seemed to mull it over for a few minutes, before asking for the details of the deal.

"You will be marked, well more specifically your soul will be marked, so that when the time comes I can claim you again," Mephisto said. "The process is quite painful, but I would assume you would be OK with that?"

What did he have to lose, Blaze thought to himself. He was already in hell, why not take the offer to return to Earth. "Sure," Blaze said. "Why not? I¹m going to end up here anyways right?"

"Excellent choice Mr. Blaze," a delighted Mephisto cackled. "I knew you would see the logic behind it. Please follow me to where the procedure will take place."

Mephisto led the way from the office, down a long, dark hallway that was lined with brightly burning torches to a room that contained only a surgical table and a tray of tools. The sight of the tools brought a shudder to Blaze and he noticeably shrunk back from the table.

"Come now, Mr. Blaze," Mephisto said. "We made a deal. Sure it might hurt for a moment, but just think, you will be back on Earth with your beloved wife in no time."

Johnny grimaced. "I'm not backing out of anything, I just didn't figure it required surgery to bond my soul to this hell."

Mephisto smiled, his black teeth gleaming in the torchlight. "And I told you that it would be painful, hence the surgical procedures. After all, it's not like we can just perform magic. Now if you would just take a seat over on the table, I will return shortly to oversee the process."

Blaze's shoulders sank as he ambled over to the cold, metal table and sat on the edge.

Mephisto made his way out through another portal in the room, walking down another torch-lit hallway before finding Blackheart waiting for him.

"So, you have found a worthy vessel to get rid of your rival am I right, father?" the demon asked.

"I have," Mephisto answered. "I have kept Zarathos imprisoned in that medallion for a millennia, ever since I cast him down for stealing souls meant for me. Now I have finally found a soul worthy enough to carry it back to Earth. And if my theories are correct, I have finally found a way for Zarathos to pay me back one hundred fold for all of those wayward souls he kept from me."

Blackheart had a puzzled look on his face. "But why use the human, father?" he asked. "Wouldn't I or another be more suited to banishing Zarathos to Earth and bringing back souls for your army?"

Mephisto closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Because, son, I don't think you could handle the job," he stated flatly. "And I wouldn't trust any of your brethren with it either. Now be gone, so I can make sure the bonding process goes as planned."

The flickering torchlight cast a myriad of shadows over Blackheart's face, but his anger and growing disdain for his father was plain to see. The demon's red eyes narrowed and his lips curled over his long fangs. "As you command father," he spat in an incredulous tone. "But rest assured, one of these days I will prove my worth to you and how wrong you are to put such stock in this human."

Mephisto dismissed him with a wave of his hand and left the chamber. The rough-hewn stones clicked slightly under his feet as he marched on towards a large iron door with a sharp orange light issuing from underneath it. From the shadows a small demon armed with a crude pike emerged with his weapon ready.

"Stand down," Mephisto ordered and the demon cowered under his master's watchful eye. Mephisto reached beneath the collar of his suit and produced an incredibly small jewel encrusted key. He grasped it between his thumb and index finger and gently inserted it into an almost invisible key hole. The door gave a loud, grinding click and swung slowly inward.

The demon-lord emerged into a brightly lit chamber that was bare except for a large stone chest that sat in the center of the floor. He stepped up and stooped down beside it and ran his fingers over the ancient runes and glyphs carved into it. A few flicks of his fingers and an invisible lock clicked and the lid cracked slightly, issuing a hiss of acrid steam from within. Mephisto slowly raised the lid of the chest to reveal that it didn't contain treasure, at least not in the conventional sense of the word. The inside of the chest was lined with a red velvet-like substance and laying in the bottom was a small metal disk, carved with a v-shaped pattern.

He regarded it for a minute before taking it in his right hand. "It is time, old one, that you serve me," he whispered. "Today you begin your service to me. It has taken me a long time to find out how to do it effectively, but trust me when I say that I found it."

He brought the medallion up to his eye, the orange light of the room making it shine with an unearthly light. Then with a flick of his wrist he slammed the medallion down on the stone floor with a loud ping and a spark. It rolled across the room before coming to rest in the far corner. The demon slowly strode over and picked up the steaming medallion, now bearing a small crack running almost the entire length of its backside. Mephisto smiled slightly and slipped the medallion in his pocket and exited the room.

When Mephisto returned to the make-shift operating room, Blaze was already strapped to the table and a demon with a shock of white hair was prodding his bare chest and belly with his gnarled fingers.

"I think he is just about ready Master," the demon spoke in a harsh, grinding voice. "Are we ready to begin the procedure?"

Mephisto studied Blaze for a moment. The man did not move. He did not whine or protest the pain he was about to receive. Blaze knew he was about to be in excruciating pain, but he never moved a muscle. This was his chance to get out of here and back to Clara.

"I believe you are right," Mephisto answered, fingering the medallion in his pocket. He slowly closed his fingers around it and brought it forth into the light. "This," he brought the medallion over Blaze's face so the man could see it, "is what will bind your soul to me. When your time comes, this will make sure your soul is returned to me. Are you ready?"

Blaze did not answer, too many things were racing through his mind. Finally, as if his spirit had finally relented hh nodded and whispered "Yes," through clenched teeth.

Mephisto nodded to the "surgeon" and the old demon started picking through the instruments on the tray, whistling an eerie tune through his serrated teeth. He picked up tool after tool and discarded each after a small whistle-filled observation. This went on for almost an hour, as the tray almost never seemed to empty.

Blaze's eyes flicked back and forth, flinching each time the doctor tossed one of the metal instruments to the floor with a clang. He tried to lean up and see what was going on, but the leather strap that ran across his forehead was keeping him still. There was nothing he could do, the strap was rubbing his forehead raw and the incessant whistling was driving him insane. Just when he was about burst the whistling abruptly stopped.

"Ahhhh, here it is," the doctor wheezed.

Blaze tried again vainly to crane his neck to see what the demon had. When the doctor finally turned and the item caught the light, Blaze's heart sank. In the demon's hand was a rust-covered dull blade, just slightly longer than his hand.

"Is there something the matter, Mr. Blaze?" Mephisto cackled. "Reconsidering our deal, perhaps?"

Blaze squeezed his eyes tight to try and hold back the thought of the pain that would be heaped upon him soon. "Just do what you have to do to get me out of here," Blaze spoke angrily.

The burst of white-hot pain reached his brain in a matter of seconds as the doctor¹s knife pierced his stomach centimeters above his navel. He continued to cut an incision almost to the base of his rib cage before stopping. "See, that wasn't so bad," the doctor wheezed to Blaze, who wasn't listening. The pain was almost unbearable, but what came next almost made him vomit.

The doctor inserted his hand into the incision and started to move his internal organs around. He then felt the cold, hard metal of the medallion being inserted near his spinal cord and finally passed out.

Mephisto watched the entire process with a slight smile on his face. The time has finally come to make Zarathos his slave and this man was the perfect vessel to contain him.

The doctor began whistling the same tune again as he started to crudely sew up the incision in Blaze's abdomen. It took several minutes, but when the procedure was finally done the demon wiped his blood covered hands on Blaze's pants and looked at Mephisto. "The process is complete, master," he said. "Is there anything else that you need me for?"

Mephisto shook his head. "Be gone," he commanded. As the doctor left the chamber, Mephisto bent over and whispered into Blaze's ear. "You are finally mine," he said. "Do you hear me, Zarathos? I will use you to repay me that which you have taken and use you up and throw you away. I've won. Do you hear me? I've won."

He stepped back from Blaze and slowly closed his eyes. He waved a hand over the prone man's body and with a blinding flash of light Blaze disappeared, leaving only a smoking operating table smelling of sulfur. "Go forth, Mr. Blaze," Mephisto said to the empty room. "You are now my spirit of vengeance and you will serve me until the end."


End file.
